Disasterpieces
by Norah the Poet
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own SLipknot, or anything affiliated, nor do I own Twilight. I do not own the title of this story. Bella, now named JaYn3, is a band-member of the group I'm Already Dead, and they go on tour with Ed's band Slipknot. JUMP THE F*** UP!
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everybody, listen, the polls I put up aren't getting nearly enough response to start whatever one you want me to begin first, so I am going to just start the one my finger landed on when I did the good old, "Close your eyes, move your finger all around the computer screen, and whatever choice you land on or close to, you do first." Trick. Well, it's not really an old trick, cuz I'm probably the only one who does it, but whatever, on with the story! (P.S. I'm planning to use mostly Slipknot, Disturbed, and Korn songs for this story, although I may use a few Flyleaf ones, when necessary)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Slipknot, though I wish with all my heart that I did, nor do I own Twilight, but there is really nothing I can do about that. I own no songs, and any implications and such are completely fictitious. I do not own masks, tours, names, lyrics, nothing. So don't sue me, please. **

**Additional Author's Note: This story is for all you Slipknot Maggots! We all deserve a good story! So, again, JUMP THE FUCK UP! (There is going to be A LOT of swearing in this story, so if that is not your cup of tea, then I suggest you leave now.)**

**Prologue: **

_This beautiful tragedy is crashing into me_

_This dying destiny_

_So now you lay yourself down in this grave with shattered eyes_

_Beautiful melodies to try and wash away the lies.—In This Moment_

**Chapter One: Beautiful Tragedy**

**Bella's Point of View**

It's cold. Dark, but most of all cold. The sweat drips down my forehead furiously, like rain. Like blood. Then, everything is brightness, and there is the numbness, the calm, before the storm. I can hear everything, but there is no sound. I can feel everything, but my body is numbed. It's what I imagine death to be like.

Then, as fast as that moment washes over me, I come to life, and the crowd roars as I open my lips and start out the first wail, smirking with a certain smugness.

Music. It's the only thing I have ever known. Performing is a way to let myself feel that high, that numbness, as briefly as it may last. My name is Isabella Marie Swan, but when I left home, I changed my name, and my appearance, to fit my personality, and to protect myself from my past.

My hair, once a chocolate brown cascade down my back, fell flat as I reached teenage years, and I chopped it off, into a short, punk look. With side swept bangs, and a Mohawk, I looked intimidating, even with my brown hair. But that changed, when I dyed it black, with blood red streaks shooting through various parts of my hair, something that secretly signified my dark past.

At age eighteen, four years after fleeing from home, I had piercings on either side of my lips, and two barbells through one of my eyebrows. I had a barbell through my tongue, and a nose piercing by the time nineteen came around.

And now, at the age of twenty, I have a plug in one ear, and a taper in another. There is an industrial barbell, well, two actually, in one of my ears, and then on both ears, piercings run up and down the whole length of the outer shell of my ear. Many people think that this is going _way _overboard, but the thing is, it's been my only way to cope with life since, well, ever. I don't see myself as beautiful, just, unique. But I like it that way.

My band is "I'm Already Dead," consisting of two drummers, one bass player, keyboards, and specialized instrument players, whose experience playing a wide range of unusual instruments goes far back. Then me, the lead singer. The reason that I have two drummers is because there are what I like to call the first-string and the second-string. Kind of like sports. If the first-string is unable to play for whatever reason, or we feel that the second-string should play in some situations, then we have the flexibility to do such things. It's kind of cool, actually. The band is like my family.

When I moved, I told you, I changed my name. I became JaYn3 Do3, spelling it with numbers and a capital 'Y' in the middle of my first name, so that I would be unforgettable, and unrecognizable to those who hunted me.

"JaYn3! Let's go!" I started, gazing up at my drummer, Zane Blade, looked at me with an amused look on his face. He found my daydreaming to be extremely funny, much to my annoyance, and seized every opportunity to make fun of me for it. Let's just say that he's lucky that he's such a damn good drummer, otherwise I would have fired him, or worse, a long, long time ago. I sighed. None of the band members knew about what had happened to me, I mean, of course they knew that _something_ had happened, they just left it alone, whether out of kindness, or out of fear. Most likely it was just that they didn't want to know what horrors had happened to me. Oh well.

"I'm coming, I'm coming, Jesus!" I groaned, pulling myself up from the couch to go see our manager. No one knew about it, but I had always been afraid of him. I knew it was wrong to let it go unpunished, but since we had signed on to record with this label, he had changed from the great, friendly manager I had once known, into some sort of predator. I stifled a shudder as the door closed behind me, leaving me alone with him.

In retrospect, there really was absolutely nothing I could really do about this, because if I fired him, he would find something to use against me, and my life would basically end. And he knew this. "JaYn3, come over here, baby." I shook my head, trying not to cry as he frowned, giving me an angry look, before picking up the office phone. I felt my eyes widen in horror, and then sighed, as he pressed the secretary button. But the relief was brief, as I listened to the word that dripped from his manipulating mouth like sweet honey. "Hello? Yes, Lilith, it's me, Mr. Lee, yes, you may tell the band that they can leave for the day, me and JaYn3 have some things to talk about concerning prices and such. Thank you, bye,"

I felt tears roll down my cheeks as he walked over to me, and eased my sleeve down my arm. "Please, don't," I whispered.

**Edward's Point of View**

"I WANNA SEE SOME FUCKING JUMPING! COME ON! JUMP. THE. FUCK. UP!" I yelled into the microphone through my mask. I loved performing. Interacting with the crowd and watching the mosh pit go wild as we started to sing one of the big favorites, "Spit It Out," was the greatest thing. There are nine members in the band, the singer, a.k.a. me, then custom percussion Emmett, backing vocalist Jasper, my drummer Joey, custom percussion Shawn, Sid on the turntables, our guitarists Jim and Mick, and bassist Paul. Overall, we are one big group. Our masks have to do with our past, and create the morbid image to entice them all.

We are a family, the band, I mean. But that does not change the fact that they have absolutely no fucking clue as to who, or what, I am **(A/N: NO, he is NOT a vampire, there are no vampires in this story, but I'm undecided about other things.)**

At the age of ten, my father became a drunken predator, hurting my mother and me every chance he got. I have scars to show for it, scars I wish would just go away. The band learned to leave it alone after a while, but that did not stop the unbearable hurt, the pain, I feel every day. I have never bothered to toy with the female populous, as the other members frequently do. I know that their bodies will give me no pleasure anyways, and the whole idea of using them simply to get my kicks seems repulsive to me. It's just as well, too, seeing as they shy away from me anyways. I have too many piercings and scars to be attractive to them. It has never mattered much, though, like I said.

"Since you never gave a damn in the first place, maybe it's time you had the tables turned, 'cuz in the interest of all involved, I got the problem solved, and the verdict is guilty!" I started to do my frantic dance and head banging around the stage as the crowd's volume grew and sang along.

Personally, I think that the real concert happens in the mosh pit. The seats beyond that area are for the pussies that are too scared to actually be a true maggot. What do they call it? Oh yeah. Admiration from afar. How cute.

"I TOLD YOU I WANNA SEE SOME FUCKING JUMPING!" I roared, smiling a wide smile that the crowd could not possibly see behind my mask.

We finished that song, and got right into Psychosocial, another big hit among the fans. "This is a little song that I like to call, PSYCHO-FUCKING-SOCIAL!" To be honest, I liked introducing the songs almost as much as performing them. It was sick, watching the crowd go nuts. Sometimes I wonder whether they come because they actually like our music, or because of the thrilling experience, they must come away with. I must sound extremely self-conceited and arrogant, but you have to admit that there is no way that craziness that I can see going on there in the crowd isn't exhilarating.

My name, I forgot to mention, is Edward Cullen. Most people do not get to see my face up close, or have a face-to-face conversation with me mask less, unless you work with us. I mean, of course we have been caught without them. It's sort of impossible not to be. We just don't really interact with fans outside of the venues, if you know what I mean.

When we were done for the night, I sat down on the hotel couch and closed my eyes. The boy were out at a strip club, per usual, so I was the only one there.

_Ring! _ I growled. Damn phone! Could I just rest for once?

"Yes, Lee, this better be _really _fucking important." I snarled. Mr. Lee was our manager. He was one of the best, too, getting us the best of the best for everything. However, his timing was impeccably _fucked-up_. "Cullen, you had better fucking bow down to me, because I just got you a tour with my other band." I felt my eyes widen. "I'm Already Dead?" I murmured, praying for confirmation. "Damn right. However, before you jump right in, let me warn you, this thing is a _long _tour. It will be split into six different parts, North America, South America, Europe, Asia, Australia, and Africa. It is to be a two-year long deal. You in?" I gulped, and agreed to it. "Great! You had better round up the boys and head back here, to Los Angeles, like _now_, to be ready to meet with the band and start to collaborate and stuff." I groaned, and growled, "You motherfucker," before snapping the phone shut, and, accidentally, in half. "Fuck," I said again. Now I would have to go out and get them all.

**Bella's Point of View**

When Lee was done with me, he smiled, zipping his pants and throwing me my clothes. "JaYn3, hurry up, you'd better get some rest, if you want to be meeting the band tomorrow. And be more careful; don't be sleeping around so much. You are being a slut. It is not good for your image." I sobbed, pulling on my clothes. That was just another rape to add to my long laundry list of sexual violence. That thought only made me cry harder. "Oh, come off it, JaYni, it's just what you wanted from the moment you saw me." I just shook my head. "Leave!" he shooed me out, down the back way, so that no one would see me.

When I got back to my apartment, I collapsed, falling against my door, whimpering and crying uncontrollably, it hurt, but I could not stop. In my life, I have had so many men hurt me. My father abused me, and then raped me repeatedly for four years, until I finally left. Then, a social worker raped me, a man named Mike Newton, who had left me in an alleyway, and the son of a family I had stayed with for a few years before I left to come here, Los Angeles. I sighed, stumbling to my bathroom. My face was stained with black, makeup, no doubt. I had a scratch on my face, from when Lee had forced me onto his desk. My corset-top had been ripped, revealing too much skin. I sighed shakily, my sobs calming a little for a brief moment as I turned on the shower. I must have gotten in and fallen asleep for a few minutes, because I woke disoriented, with the hot water hitting my body. I washed my body and my hair, but I still felt so dirty. I could feel all of their hands on my body. Every single one of them. It felt as if ten hands were touching me. Hurting me. I began to scrub, harder this time.

I spent an hour like this, until finally, I started to cry, agonized wails ripping through my body as the physical and the emotional pain coursed through my whole being. I looked at the gleaming razor that lay, right next to my hand. I fantasized dragging it across my skin, just once, then finding it to be too good that I couldn't stop until there were deep gashes all over my arms, the blood leaving my body, as if it contained all the pain I felt, and the feeling of slowly drifting away into nothingness, the feeling of dieing. I had imagined committing suicide many, many times before this, I had thought about it every day since I was four years old and I saw my mom take those pills and the small pink razorblade, dragging it across her own wrists, just as I imagined I would do it. Of course, I never told anybody of these romantic fantasies I had, now _that_ would truly be suicide.

The water ran cold suddenly, bringing me back to the present time. I sighed. I never cut my dry skin; I always did it in the shower. I really do not know why, I just felt better that way. My hand moved away form the blade, but I made sure to drag my palm against it, closing my eyes and sighing in content as I felt the sharp metal slice easily through my fragile skin. I wrapped a soft towel around my body, and grabbed some gauze and some medical tape before going into my bedroom to change and dress my palm. As the numbness faded, I welcomed the sharp, beautiful sting of the wound I had created. It was easier to get away with these cuts, as I could simply say that I was a victim of my own clumsiness yet again. In truth, although I was _a bit_ clumsy, I was not actually too bad, just an occasional trip or fall on something stupid, like air. They had seen them before, so I came up with my own private joke. Every Monday and Thursday was Fish Fillet day, so I cut my palms. The band would shake their heads and laugh, not catching onto the steady pattern that had slowly been forming over time. I was actually somewhat surprised that they did not, actually, but whatever. I sighed, snuggling into my comfortable, warm bed, and falling into a fitful slumber.

**Edward's Point of View**

I yawned, reaching Los Angeles in our beat-up van just as the sun rose into the western sky. I huffed heavily; I had really been hoping to catch some form of fucking rest, but whatever. I pulled into the recording studio's lot just as 10:29 came around.

"Fuck," I cursed. One minute to get the whole band and their gear up. There was no fucking way. I decided to just focus o getting bodies up into the studio on time, so that no blood would be shed, and ushered the band into the waiting room as the clock read ten-thirty on the dot. I smirked. I am amazing, I thought smugly to myself. Thanks to some illegal and reckless driving on Jasper's part, and mine, we had made it on time.

"They are going to be late, JaYn3, I can guarantee—" Lee stopped mid sentence, and gave us all a half-hearted smile. We all knew how much he wanted us to be, just once, late for _something_. No such luck there, buddy.

It suddenly dawned on em that I had never seen the lead singer of this band. Due to travel, we rarely watched or read any sort of news or tabloid. I had almost seen her once, when MTV had put a music video on, but just as I came into the room, it ended.

But _nothing_, nothing that I had ever experienced in my entire life, could have prepared me for what happened next. Because following right after Lee, was this beautiful angel. She had barbells through her ears and eyebrow, and industrials in both ears, a plug in one, and piercings lining the outer shell of both ears. Her black and red streaked hair lay flat, straightened. I had heard she had a Mohawk, though, was it just a rumor? Why did it even matter to me? It was then that I suddenly realized I was staring, and had yet to say anything. I grinned sheepishly at her, and the most beautiful blush stained her cheeks.

"I'm Edward Cullen, and this is my band," I said softly when Lee had left to let us get settled. The girl's head snapped up, and another blush stained her porcelain cheeks with an amazing red color. I was in, in, well, awe. There was no other way to put how I felt. She smiled, and said in a meek voice, "I'm JaYn3 Do3, and these are the rest of our band. We are happy to be working with you." Oh, god. That voice. Feelings I did not understand were beginning to rise in me, well, hehe, in a certain part of me, it seemed, as well. And I knew, for a fact, that I was totally fucked.

This girl had caught my interest. Now, we would be working together for two years. Oh, shit.

**Bella's Point of View**

I sighed, as I pulled into the parking lot, clicking my tongue piercing against my lip rings nervously. I arched an eyebrow at the time; fifteen minutes until we met up with the band. I tapped my foot nervously for a few minutes before stepping out and walking in, through the back way, as usual. It was not until I got to the recording room, that I realized that no one was here yet.

"JaYn3! You are early! What a, _pleasant_, surprise," I whimpered, feeling the chill run down my spine, and the shaking fear I felt go straight to my knees. I felt a big, sweaty palm begin to slide up my skirt, and was about to enter my panties, when I heard raucous laughter and the sound of grumbling and boyish roughhousing. I had never been so grateful for a disruption in my life.

_Beepbeepbee…_ Mr. Lee ripped the phone off the hook, and said quite harshly, "Yes, I know they are here!" before slamming it down again and turning towards me. "We can finish this later, baby," he said in my ear quietly. I whimpered again, and followed him to the door. Finally, I was about to see them. I took deep breaths, and managed to calm myself a bit when I finally walked out.

Nothing, _nothing, _could have _ever _ prepared me for meeting _him_.

**Author's Note**

**SO, how is it, so far? I hope you guys like it. It took me hours to write! Please review! I beg you! It will get you the next chapter much sooner, because reviews=a motivated me! Again, this is going to be a vulgar story when it comes to swears, so leave now if you are against swears. Also, I have decided that I will split up What Happens Next into six sections; What Happens Next, then sophomore, junior, and senior year. Then, I will do an epilogue. The last thing is a surprise! HAHA! I am evil! You are going to have to wait until I finish the first two years to find out! Just kidding, maybe, I do not think I will be **_**that **_**mean. But you never know (raises eyebrows suggestively)**

**PEACE!**

**Love you. MAGGOTS!!!!(IT"S A COMPLIMENT!)**

**Norah the Poet**

**: P**


	2. Chapter 2: Duality

**Author's Note:**

**The only reason I am continuing with this story is ann, my one reviewer. If it were not for her, I have just gotten rid of the story. As it is, I feel like this story was a dud, however you would like to put it. Seriously guys, it takes all of one minute to post a simple review telling me what you're thoughts are on this story, a lot less time than it takes for me to actually write them, now, don't you think. Okay, on a slightly higher note, sorry if this is totally inaccurate, I have no clue as to how this whole tour-scheduling thing works, so yeah. Okay! On with the story!**

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_**All This Green!**_, by **teamedwardc101**

_**Soccer With Her**_, by **My . Edward . Anthony**

_**I don't need a savior!**_by **RobDaZzLes**

_**Cleaning Out My Closet**_ by **IceAgeSurvivor123**

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**Prologue:**

_I push my fingers into my eyes. It's the only thing that slowly stops the ache But it's made of all the things I have to take Jesus it never ends, it works it's way inside If the pain goes on. I have screamed until my veins collapsed I've waited as my times elapsed. Now all I do is live with so much fate.—Slipknot_

**Chapter Two: Duality**

**Bella's Point of View**

He was, well beautiful. I had, of course, seen him before, but only with that mask on, never without it. Now that I finally got to see his face, I was at a total loss as to what I should say or do.

Edward Cullen. I cringed briefly, another painful memory hitting me with a terrible pang.

_Flashback:_

"_Oh, look! It's the little orphan nobody, whatcha gonna do, you little tramp!"_

_End of Flashback_

I shuddered again. Edward Masen. He was one of my many abusers. Although he never sexually abused me, he had, done other things. Like hitting me, and verbally abusing me to the point where I started to believe his words.

"I'm Edward Cullen, and this is my band." Oh, fuck. That voice. Those recordings did _not_ do him justice in the least. I looked up at him, really looked, and almost fainted. If I had thought a simple glance was enough to appreciate his beauty, I had been sorely mistaken.

He had unkempt, bronze hair, and perfect features. His nose was straight, and his jaw line was angular and perfect, complete with flawless skin, and full lips. There was a piercing in the dead center of his bottom lip, and a barbell, well, two, actually, through one of his eyebrows. He had one ear pierced with a plug, taper, and two industrials. It was downright sexy. _Shut up, Bella! _My mind warned me. I shook my head, trying to get rid of the beauty-induced haze that had fogged my brain. I then realized I had yet to say anything, and I felt my face flush embarrassingly. "I'm JaYn3 Do3, and these are the rest of our band. We are happy to be working with you." Edward smiled, and motioned, with one hand, to the meeting room. The room where Lee had, _raped_ me, just the day before, and said quietly, "Then, let's sit down, and start to work things out. Then we can start to see what will work sound-wise." I gulped, and tried to quell to nausea that was radiating in my throat, all the way to my toes, and I staggered a bit. "JaYn3, are you alright?" He asked. I nodded, even though I wasn't okay, and said, "Y-yes, I just feel a bit, um, light-headed, I didn't eat last night, I guess," Then, I fainted.

"JaYn3? JaYn3?" I groaned, and rolled over, into something, _soft?_ "JaYn3, are you awake?" I felt a hand brush my hair back, and finally, I slowly began to open my eyes, and came face to face with, with, _shirt_? This was just getting more confusing. "W-what, happened to me?" I murmured into the soft folds of black cotton. Whoever it was smelled _really_ good. "You fainted, I caught you right before you split your head open on the corner of the door." I knew that voice. It was then that everything started to make sense, and I freaked out. "Get, get off of me!" I panicked, and writhed in Edward's arms. At that moment, it didn't really matter that he was just trying to be helpful and nice, all I could see was _them_. And at that moment, it was them, not Edward, holding me. But he wouldn't let go. Instead of just giving me some room, he merely held on tighter. "Please, please!" I begged, I was looking at him desperately. He only shook his head. "Shh, it's okay! It's alright, JaYn3, I'm here." He reached out to touch my face, and I bit his hand. He gasped, and pulled away, finally! I broke out of his death-grip, and rolled onto the floor. Getting up, I staggered once or twice before steadying myself and glaring at him.

"Jesus, JaYn3, you didn't have to fuc-flipping bite me!" Edward growled. I flinched away, but quickly hid my hurt, and shrugged, saying, "Sorry, I just don't really like it when people touch me, okay?" He laughed, but it was a strained laugh, as he wrapped his shirt around his hand. "It's fine. Note to self; don't touch JaYn3." I laughed along with him nervously, trying to see his hand. "I really am, sorry, let me see you're hand, Edward." He winced. "It's fine. Just a little blood is all. It's fine."

Okay then, if you wanna be stubborn, then you can just sit there with a fricking bloody hand. Go ahead and see if I care. The only problem was, I did care. A lot. And I had only known this guy for all of ten seconds. Well, not literally, but still! Whatever. "Okay, let's get down to business then," I started, pulling out a chair, and swallowing the nausea that was threatening to take over again. "Alright. Let's go over percussions first if you don't mind me taking over a bit…" After that, I zoned out, trying to forget the horrible memories his touch had induced. I didn't want to do this now. There was nowhere to go and hide and make those beautiful cuts on my arms.

"JaYn3? JaYn3!" I gasped, snapping my head up. My bandmates snickered and I flipped them off. Fuck them. Then I realized that Edward was pretty much shouting at me to focus. I apologized and tried to stay focused. And it worked…until my arm felt sort of moist. I looked down and bit my lip to hold back the cry. I had been digging my nails into my arm so hard one of my fingernails had peeled back a little, and my arm was bleeding.

"I—I'm sorry, I gotta go. It was nice meeting you guys. Sorry about leaving like this…" I bolted towards the door, but before I could grab it and wrench it open, Edward appeared in front of me. "Hold up, what the hell is all this about? And if you absolutely have to leave can I get your number? So we can—" I basically growled back. "_No_. I don't give out my number." I shoved him aside and ran out the door, wiping away tears. I heard footsteps behind me but I could care less. I ran and ran until I reached my car. Then I sped away, the smell of burning rubber saturating the morning air.

**Edward's Point of View**

It was like lightning. One minute she was there, the next she was falling, fainting, into my arms. She gripped my shirt and groaned. Even as she was in the midst of unconsciousness, the feeling of having her in my arms induced inappropriate thoughts in my mind. And suddenly my, ahem, 'little issue' seemed to get worse. _Lady Gaga, Lady Gaga,_ I thought frantically. I wanted to laugh. Problem solved. That man/woman thing is enough to turn me off completely. But I was back where I started when I felt JaYn3's hand brush my chest through my shirt. "Dammit…" I growled under my breath. I brushed her dyed hair back, gently moving my hands through it. I wanted to tangle my hands in it and never let go. It was so soft. I watched her eyelids open, the lashes fluttering against the fabric of my shirt. It dawned on me somewhere in my mind that both of our bands were watching this interaction between JaYn3 and I, but I was just so lost in her I couldn't find it in me to care. She groaned again and murmured "W-what, happened to me?" She sounded thoroughly confused. Trying to mask the want in my voice, I spoke in hushed tones, "You fainted, I caught you right before you split your head open on the corner of the door."

Then, all of a sudden, her entire demeanor changed. The moment she heard my voice her body went rigid, her eyes were alert, and she looked like she was going to flip out. _Shit, _I thought, and then, chaos. "Get, get off of me!" She protested against my grip. I didn't want her to hurt herself, so I held on tighter. She begged in a terrified voice, Please, please!" No way was I letting this angel out of my arms. I reached out to touch her face, to comfort her, calm her down. "Shh, it's okay! It's alright, JaYn3, I'm here." Then, she _bit _me. Wincing in pain and surprise, I released her from my grip and she rolled onto the floor. She got up, staggering a bit, before proceeding to glare at me angrily. "Jesus, JaYn3, you didn't have to fuc-flipping bite me!" I snapped at her. I wanted to punch through a wall. What the fuck lady? But I felt instantly sorry for it as soon as I saw her face. She looked like she'd been slapped. "Sorry, I just don't really like it when people touch me, okay?" She sounded defensive, scared, a little angry maybe. I wanted her to stop looking at me like that. "It's fine. Note to self; don't touch JaYn3." I tried to laugh as I wrapped my shirt around my hand. That girl had a fucking good bite. Jesus it hurt like fuck. She was glaring at me again, as I tried to hide my hand from her eyes. It was that angry, guarded glare again. The one I hated.

But under that guarded glare was something awful. An awful pain, a cry for help. She looked tortured, sad, anxious, and overwhelmed all at the same time. There was not one ounce of happiness in those huge orbs. It scared me, because I wanted to ease that pain, I wanted to just hold her, make it go away. Protect her from harm.

What the fuck had happened to this poor girl? Who had done this to her? What had done this to her? I was going to find out, I was going to hunt who or whatever it was down and I was going to—"Okay, let's get down to business then," JaYn3 interrupted the ranting in my mind. She pulled out a chair, and stopped. I was ready to catch her again, she looked like she was going to be violently ill.

Finally, we got working on figuring out sound. "Alright. Let's go over percussions first if you don't mind me taking over a bit…" I started, and was going to finish my sentence when I saw JaYn3's face. Her eyes were agonized, her mouth open in almost a silent cry as she stared out the glass window and into the city. "JaYn3? JaYn3!" She gasped, her beautiful eyes landing back on mine. Her bandmates laughed at her rudely and she flipped them off. Fuck. Why did that turn me on? I shook my head, and accidentally yelled at them to all focus when I really just meant to say it to myself. They all seemed to pay full attention though. Well until JaYn3 suddenly stood and winced, speaking in a jumbled blur. "I got to go…Sorry…Nice…meeting you guys…" and I couldn't understand the rest. Looking at Jasper and shrugging, I jumped up and blocked her exit. "Hold up, what the hell is all this about? And if you absolutely have to leave can I get your number? So we can—" She growled a frantic 'No' at me before pushing me out of the way and bolting from the office.

I ran after her, but damn, she was surprisingly fast. I watched her car drive away and ran to my van, burning rubber just like her. I found her within five minutes, parking at an apartment building. I silently drove and parked the van on the side of the building and slipped through the door just before it clicked shut behind her. I went unnoticed by her until the door of her apartment. Then she exhaled and whipped around. She lifted a fist to try and punch what she thought was an attacker, but I grabbed both of her arms. She cried out and fell backwards, pulling me into her apartment with her. Luckily I balanced the both of us, but she was still freaking out.  
Edward you don't understand, let go of me. It hurts please just let go." I wasn't going to. It was then that I realized she was bleeding. I looked at her arm and gasped at the broken fingernail and the damage it had inflicted on her arm. "Did you fucking do this?" I growled.

She whimpered, and I suddenly snapped back from the fog. I let go of her and she dropped to the ground.

As I watched her helplessly sobbing on the floor, I was sure about only one thing. This poor girl is seriously fucked up.

Like a fallen angel.

And I was going to save her.

**Author's Note**

**Well I thought that was a pretty good chapter, how about you? Please review! I worked pretty effin hard on this! It'd be nice to get some support. I love you all tho, even if you don't review.**

**ADVERTISEMENTS**

_**All My Life**__, _and _**The Lost Daughters of Russia**_, by **flutetenorsaxplayer2008**.

_**All This Green!**_, by **teamedwardc101**

_**Soccer With Her**_, by **My . Edward . Anthony**

_**I don't need a savior!**_by **RobDaZzLes**

_**Cleaning Out My Closet**_ by **IceAgeSurvivor123**

_**The Sequel to The Lost Daughter of Russia**_ by **Flutetenorsaxplayer2008**

_**I Want You to Want Me**_ by **The Perisher**

_**It All Started At Band Camp**_ by **flutetenorsaxplayer2008**

They are all really good!

PEACE!

-Norah :D


	3. Chapter Three:Oildale

**Author's Note:**

**Hey sorry I haven't been updating a lot lately its been kind of a busy summer. But I'm back now so here's chapter three! And please leave reviews, I only have seven its kind of disheartening. I mean if you guys like the story and stuff just tell me that. I don't care if you flame me or give me criticism. I welcome it. And thank you to my five reviewers, you guys keep me writing! Okay on with the story…**

**ADVERTISEMENTS**

_**All My Life**__, _and _**The Lost Daughters of Russia**_, by **flutetenorsaxplayer2008**.

_**All This Green!**_, by **teamedwardc101**

_**Soccer With Her**_, by **My . Edward . Anthony**

_**I don't need a savior!**_by **RobDaZzLes**

_**Cleaning Out My Closet**_ by **IceAgeSurvivor123**

_**The Sequel to The Lost Daughter of Russia**_ by **Flutetenorsaxplayer2008**

_**I Want You to Want Me**_ by **The Perisher**

_**It All Started At Band Camp**_ by **flutetenorsaxplayer2008**

They are all really good!

**Additional Acknowledgements:**

**Candi Marie Cullen**

**Stacy Sapphire**

**4ever**

**RobynRiot**

**ann**

**Prologue:**

_Why don't you just leave me alone? My heart's gonna break from the fall. Holding onto many things, feeling all the hate it brings, why don't you just leave me alone?—Ko__Яn__** (I'm obsessed with **__**Ko**__**Яn : ))**_

**Bella's POV**

I couldn't believe that Cullen had actually had the fucking balls to follow me to my apartment. And I couldn't believe the fact that the only safe place I had was now ruined. Needless to say I was all but a pitiful puddle sobbing pathetically on the floor right in front of the leader of one of the best bands to ever grace this earth. But I couldn't help it.

They just didn't understand. Everything I had done, to protect and to barricade my body and my heart from shattering, had been broken all within a half an hour. The world I lived in seemed to be crumbling around me while I looked on as a helpless, voiceless bystander. It just didn't seem real.

Edward—I mean Cullen—knew about the wound I had created today. And he knew the tortured pain in my eyes. I could see it in his. The recognition, the pity, but where was the hate? The judgment? It was nowhere to be found on his beautiful face.

I sniffled and wobbled to my feet after what seemed like an eternity, only to fall into Cullen's strong arms. He caught me almost willingly, like it was instinct, wrapping his arms around my body and tucking my head into his chest. What the fuck? Why was he doing this? It frightened me because I couldn't help but wonder when he would rip my clothes off and start fucking me up the ass like every other man I had known in my life.

And so, overcome by fear and panic, I did the only thing I knew how to do-I tried to defend myself, tried to make as much noise as I could. I figured at this point I had nothing to lose.

"Please, please just let go of me! Don't hurt me please!" I screamed, or tried. But my voice was only a crackly whisper. I was mute. Defenseless.

I felt my entire body start to shake uncontrollably. His hand pushed my face up, forcing me to look at him. Then, opening his godlike lips, he said, sweet breath rushing in my face, "What happened to you? Who did this to you?"

And, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, I passed out in his arms.

**Edward's POV**

She was sobbing on the floor in front of me, but I didn't dare reach out to touch her. I knew it would only make things worse, judging from what had happened the last time I tried to hold her.

After a moment or so, she sniffled adorably and wobbled to her feet. I gritted my teeth, trying to undo the inappropriate hard-on I currently was sporting. How was this girl doing this? What the fuck was wrong with me?

But I had no time to even think about those things as she fell into my arms. I caught her like it was something I had done every day of my life, wrapping my arms around her shaking body, tucking her head protectively into my chest.

She was whimpering, saying something like "Please, please...don't...me...let...go" my heart went out to this poor creature. Her voice was but a hoarse whisper as she struggled with me feebly. But I could see that she was losing more and more strength and willpower—it was as if a two year old was trying to fight off a bull. She was shaking violently, clutching my shirt and crying.

This girl was a fucking mess. There was no way around it. She had been broken in the worst way, it made me want to cry myself. I desperately needed her to be alright. To be happy, to smile. But I knew she was tortured by something and as long as it killed her inside I knew she couldn't be happy.

I was really scaring myself. Why in the fuck did I even give a shit about this basket case of a musician? Why was I so drawn to her? And why the fuck did her every move cause my dick to perk up a bit? It was a tad embarrassing. The sad part was I wasn't even angry at her, or anyone.

I heard a light whoosh, and snapped back to the present. JaYn3's beautiful face was buried in my chest. That wouldn't do.

Before my mind could tell my hand otherwise, I pushed her face up, our lips inches apart. Then, looking into her eyes, I whispered, "What happened to you? Who did this to you?" I watched as her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before rolling into the back of her head as she collapsed in my arms.

Not knowing what else to do, I picked her up and laid her on the couch, pulling the blanket from the top of it over her tiny form. Then, without another word, I locked the door and left, praying to god she would be alright.

It was as I was driving to the hotel that I remembered her arm. "FUCK." I growled angrily, beating my fist against the horn, accidentally pissing people off. I pulled a u-turn and sped back to her apartment.

Fuck. Traffic. It would take me an hour or more to get to her...FUCK.

**Bella's POV**

I woke up shivering under a shabby blanket, laying on the couch. I gasped and sat up as I remembered what had happened.

Cullen had been here. He'd _touched_ _me_, held me.

Yet, I couldn't find it in me to be angry at him. And _that_ is what pissed me off more than anything.

I felt a warm, sharp pain in my arm, and gritted my teeth as I looked at the damage. FUCK. oh well. I pulled my ratty tank top over my head and changed into a fresh one. Then I unzipped my skirt and slid it off my beaten body, wincing at the pain.

Stumbling into the bathroom, I braced myself against the sink as I looked into the harsh eyes that stared back at me from within the mirror. I wanted to slap the look of sadness right off my face, but just like a tattoo, you can't ever fully remove something that is permanent.

And that too really pissed me off. Just as I was about to start tending to my wounds, the buzzer sounded. I jumped, yelping as the tweezers I was going to use to take out the fingernail ripped my arm further. I groaned and pressed the talk button, "Who in the _fuck_ is this?"

There was a fuzzy silence, then a familiar voice, "It's Edward, Edward Cullen, please let me in." I groaned even louder, and said in a whiny voice, "What the fuck is so damn important Edw-Cullen?"

The answer made me gasp. "I wanted to help with that nasty cut on your arm. I promise I won't hurt you, please just let me help."

I growled into the speaker, frustrated. "it's none of your fucking business."

There was an immediate response. "It is if it has or could possibly interfere with our working together. Don't make me get Lee involved..." that name sent my thumb straight for the unlock. "Come in right fucking now." I snarled, smashing the button with a furious fist.

**Edward's POV**

I sighed as I finally won the fight, relieved that I had, until it dawned on me. Her reaction to my touch, and to Lee's name... Was it possible?...but I shook the thought out of my mind. I couldn't even bring myself to think about the possibilities, cowardly as it might seem.

I knocked on her door, and she opened it immediately, grabbing me by the shirt and pulling me in.

Surprised and stunned, I could just stare at her for a few moments. She crossed her bare arms, wincing as she seemed to remember her injury, and tapped her foot. "Well if you want to help me at all, I'd first suggest that you kindly dont tell Lee about this—don't ask why...And please just help me with my arm, it, it's worse than I thought.

I fought back the urge to do a fist pump—I got to touch the angel again—as I followed her into a tiny bathroom. I cocked my head to the side as I walked behind her. She was wearing gray boyshorts and a tank top. No bra. Oh. Fuck.

She turned around, and blushed at our obvious closeness. Without thinking I hoisted her onto the sink, my hands grasping her thighs. Her breath quickened, but it wasn't for the same reason that mine did. "O-okay, e-enough of that, just fix my fucking arm please." I fought back a grin and the rude remark that would have followed.

I worked in silence, chanting Lady Gaga in my mind like an endless power mantra, the anti-boner warrior. When I finally finished cleaning the cut, I realized that there were more.

I bit back a growl, well tried, but it wasn't good enough. "JaYn3 gasped and tried to jerk her arm away, but I held on tight. "What. The. Fuck." was all I could manage. My whole body was rippling, growls ripping through me. JaYn3 whimpered again, something I had to admit I was getting tired of, but still, I calmed down. However, I couldn't bring myself to look at her face.

She soon realized this, and said meekly, "Edward?" not even that would break my fury. I didn't even answer. She seemed to shake.

"Edward, please," but I just shook my head. She fucking cut herself. What the fuck. WHAT THE FUCK. I was beyond furious. And so, without another word, or glance, I bandaged her arm and left, slamming the door behind me.

**Bella's POV**

I suppressed a sigh as his fingertips brushed my legs, his palms pressing into them as he lifted me up. It was a scary, yet amazing feeling. The amazing part was the high that seemed to accompany his every touch. The scary part was that I wanted more of it. It wasn't something I had ever experienced before _in my life_.

I found myself short of breath as he stood between my legs, tenderly caring to my arm. I was really scared now, because I was starting to care and trust Edward in a really big way. But I was still afraid he was going to rape me, as everybody else had. The feeling was the same, I would give a little bit of trust and they would violate me and my trust in the end.

Then, I felt Edward's grip on me tighten, and I sucked in a short breath before looking up at him. He was shaking, and _growling_, a d then he said in a low, enraged voice, "What. The. Fuck." I gasped as I followed his gaze down to the row of thin white scars that marred my skin. Oh no.

He ignored me completely, avoiding looking at my face as he bandaged up my arm. "Edward?" no answer. I started to tremble, a sort of recoil from his coldness. His touch no longer felt tender. No. It felt rushed, gentle but only as was acceptable. It was _distant_.

"Edward please," but he only shook his head. As soon as he finished my arm he turned and walked right out my apartment door.

Not one word. Not a single glance.

What the FUCK?

**Edward's POV**

Why had she done this to herself? Why couldn't she just talk? Get professional help? Cutting was weak, so why was she doing this? She didn't seem like a weak person.

Everything was swirling around my brain like the dirty water swirling around the shower drain, they were thoughts though, the grimy ring, the things leftover, could not be erased or washed away by water or bleach. And that hurt more than anything.

Somehow, I felt like JaYn3 had betrayed me, even though that couldn't possibly be true because I had only known her for all of one day. But still, the reality of the situation did not in the least do anything to change my thoughts or feelings about it.

So now I knew three things about JaYn3; One-she had been broken, shattered by someone, or something. Two-it bothered her enough that she cut herself to bits. And three-that the two things I knew about her were the only things I cared about now.

All that mattered now was fixing JaYn3. And I _would_ find a way to fix her. I didn't care how long or how much it took. I would find a way.

**Bella's** **POV**

I spent that night thinking about an angel. And yes, to me, Edward was an angel. Even if I still didn't completely trust him, I wanted to, and I couldn't deny the fact that he had treated me with more respect and with more tenderness than I felt I truly deserved.

I couldn't stop thinking about the way he had helped with my arm. Okay I couldn't stop thinking about the way his fingers brushed my skin. It felt amazing. His touch sent tingles all through my body.

I couldn't help but feel guilty for these thoughts and feelings though. I felt like I was committing some sort of heinous crime, thinking about that god of a man.

Then I remembered how he had reacted to my cuts and scars, and how he had growled so angrily and looked at me like I was dirt. And suddenly, I found myself again. Who was he, after all, to be judging me? He didn't know the things I had been through, the pain I had suffered. He knew _nothing._ And that fact pissed me off more than anything had before. No fucking way was I going to let him tour with me. No _fucking _way was I going to work with that asshole. No. _Fucking_. Way. I would have to run away again though.

This was something that hurt me, and the scariest part was I didn't know why.


End file.
